


Kindred Spirits, part I

by Dianthus



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-02-13 05:29:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2138745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dianthus/pseuds/Dianthus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blame it on Jane Espenson. Every time Hook says "Bloody Hell" or "Mate" - whenever he gets flirty with Emma (when doesn't he?) - I'm forcibly reminded of another reformed (Big) Bad Boy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kindred Spirits, part I

**Author's Note:**

> Here be Spoilers (mostly BtVS).

Emma knew immediately that something wasn’t right. The lips she was kissing had suddenly gone cold, and the cheek under her hand was clean-shaven. She scrambled back on the bed, fell, and landed on her butt. The stranger got to his feet, leaned down, and offered her a hand.

“Sorry ‘bout that, love.”

She could hear the whiskey and cigarettes in his voice. She took his hand, which was also cold, and allowed him to help her to her feet. He had a surprisingly strong grip. Standing near him, Emma realized he was closer to her own 5’5” than he was to Killian’s 5’11”. He also had a shock of bleached blond hair, ruthlessly gelled into submission. Even so, a few small, renegade curls sprang loose at his hairline. He wore motorcycle boots, black jeans, and a wine red button-down shirt, all topped with a black leather duster Killian might envy.

He released her, and she took a couple of steps back.

“Who the Hell are you and what have you done with Killian?”

“Name’s Spike. As for your man Killian… well, I dunno. Never actually switched places with anyone before. Considerin’ I’m here, I s’pose he’s back in ‘Frisco with Red and Niblet.”

“Which means what?”

“Assumin’ I’m right, it means he’s among friends.”

“Why are you so cold?”

“Now, now. Just hold on a tic. I’ve already answered three of your questions, an’ I’ve got a few of my own. ”

“Alright.”

“Ta. So, who might you be?”

“Emma Swan.”

“And we're where exactly?”

“Storybrooke, Maine.”

“Hmph. ‘Scuze me.”

He reached into a pocket of his duster with his left hand, produced a cell phone, and proceeded to make a call.

“You’re not Dawn. Who is this? Is she there? Dawn. Dawn Summers.”

His face tightened in frustration. He tried again with a different number. He let it ring several times before giving up and slipping the phone back in his pocket.

“Bugger. So much for that idea.”

“Is it my turn again?”

“’m cold ‘cuz I’m a vampire.”

“Like Dracula?”

“We’ve only just met, so I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that. Look, just try an’ stay calm, yeah?”

Emma heard a soft snarl. Suddenly his sparkling blue eyes, so much like Killian’s, burned a sulfurous yellow from underneath heavy brow ridges. His nose was curiously flattened. He did look kinda scary, but he made no threatening moves and kept his hands loosely at his sides.

She moved closer and started to reach out. She stopped herself, and then said, “May I?”

He shrugged.

“Suit yourself, pet.”

By speaking, he revealed a mouthful of sharp, snaggly fangs.

She reached out to run her fingers lightly over his distorted features. He had a scar through his left eyebrow. She let her hand fall, and he shook off his demonic visage like a dog shaking water from its fur. Then he resumed his seat on the bed. Emma warily joined him there.

“Aren’t vampires evil?”

“Mostly, yeah.”

“But not you?”

“Was; had a change of heart some while back. Long story; highly improbable.”

“Wait. Where did you say you’re from? You sure don’t sound like you’re from California.”

“Not originally, no, and not the one you’ve got either, but The City’s where I hang my hat these days.”

“So you’re from another realm?”

“Realm?”

“You know…dimension.”

“I guess. You seem pretty cozy with the idea. Care to explain?”

“Almost everyone here is from another realm except for Henry and me. Well, technically I was born there, but sent here as a baby. I’ve traveled between realms a few times, using magic, and into the past.”

“Really? Niblet… uh… Dawn, that is… she’s recently come into magic of her own, and she’s been flingin’ me ‘round like a bleedin’ ragdoll ever since. So, who’s this Henry when he’s at home?”

“My son.”

Emma reached into her pocket and pulled out her own phone. She brought up a picture and held it out for him to see.

“That’s him. Killian, too.”

He studied the picture, his dark brows drawing into a frown. The boy looked happy and healthy, like any middle-class, suburban kid you might run into at the local mall. The man next to him was a whole ’nother kettle of fish. He had dark hair, a lean, athletic build, and bright blue eyes. As for his manner of dress… the rakish air about him…the shiny bit of metal where his left hand should be…

“When was this taken, Swan?”

“About a week ago.”

“You were goin’ to a fancy dress party?” 

“Nope.”

He looked up from the photo.

“You been swappin’ spit with… Captain Hook?”

She laughed.

“That’s not the half of it.”

She pulled the phone back and brought up a different picture. She held that one out to him as well. Unlike the other less formal picture, this had the look of a family portrait. A pretty young woman with dark hair was seated on a chair holding a baby in her arms. A handsome fair-haired young man stood just behind her and a little to one side.

“Charming.”

“Funny you should say that.”

He looked up at her.

“No.”

“Uh-huh. Meet Snow White and Prince David, AKA Charming. Or, as I like to call them, Mom and Dad.”

“Um…”

“Like you said, long story; highly improbable.”

“Oooh – kay. An’ the itty bit?”

“My baby brother, Prince Neal.”

He tilted his head as he studied her, rather like an inquisitive bird.

“You’re a fairytale princess?”

“Asks the vampire. Besides, it’s not as much fun as you might think. I only just went to my first Royal Ball less than two months ago and I couldn’t even go as myself.”

“You strike me as more the ass-kickin’ Princess-Leia-with-blaster-in-hand-type anyway.”

Emma gaped at him.

“What? Leia’s related to Luke by blood, right? You’re related to Henry by blood, an’ I’m guessin’ he’s bound to be some kinda big hero, when the time is right,‘cuz his heart is pure and true. As for your Han Solo, well, that’s bleedin’ obvious, innit?”

“We had to use aliases when we went to the Ball. I called Killian Prince Charles.”

“You didn’t call yourself Princess Di, did you?”

“No.”

“Well, hers was not the fairy tale ending, poor lamb. Seems like ev’rybody loved her but one.”

“He missed the ‘Leia’ reference at the time. I’ve been trying to get him caught up a bit since then. We just watched ‘Empire’ the other night. Part of me was reluctant to show it to him at first, with that ending, but it didn’t bother him. As far as he’s concerned, True Love’s gonna win the day. All that’s in question is the how.  
God, it’s like the Fates are saying ‘Here, Honey, you’ve had it kinda rough, and now we’d like to make it up to you.’ He’s funny, smart, passionate, supportive…I…,” her cheeks went a delightful shade of pink. “Sorry. We’ve known each other awhile, but this part’s still pretty new.”

“No reason you should feel bad about feelin’ good, kitten. So it’s serious?”

“Hot’n’heavy.”

“Oh, ho,” he chortled. “Good for you, Swan. In that case, I wish you happy. Here, seein’ as you showed me yours…”

He pulled out his phone again and called up a photo. He turned it so she could see. It featured two young women, one with dark hair, the other fair.

“The dark-haired one, that’s Dawn. Goldie… uh… the blonde…that’s her big sis, Buffy. Dawn’s The Key.”

“The Key to what?”

He shrugged.

“Ev’rything? Buffy, she’s The Slayer. One of many now, but it wasn’t always so. She fights evil. Dawn wasn’t born so much as, I dunno, incorporated? Corporialized? She was originally sent to Buffy for protection.”

“Buffy fights evil… but… you were evil. You said so yourself. So, I’m confused. Were you still evil when you two met?”

“Yeah. I tried to kill her… she tried to stake me… It was all fun’n’games ’til Angelus made his big comeback. He’s a right bastard, an’ it takes one to know one. That was the first time Slayer’n’me teamed up, to stop him from sendin’ the world to Hell. For Buffy, it was her job. For me, well, I figured on goin’ there anyway, eventually. Wasn’t in any big hurry.”

“This Angelus, he’s a vampire too, yes? So you chose your mortal enemy over one of your own. If Dawn’s The Key, and Buffy’s The Slayer, I guess that makes you The Exception.”

“I had my reasons. Didn’t stick around for the finale, though; not that time. The impetus was there, but the follow-through was sorely lacking. I saw a chance to grab what I wanted an’ scarper, so I took it. ’Fraid I left her holdin’ the bag on that one. Still, she pulled it out in the end, despite the cost.”

“Bad?”

“Bloody rotten. It’s a heavy lift, Slayin’. Long hours for no pay; sufferin’ – sacrifice. Some punk-ass vamp, lookin’ to add another notch to his belt, tryin’ to take you down. Buffy, though, she’s not your by-the-book-sorta-Slayer. Kept ties to the world, she did, and changed it all up. Her mum, Joyce, once tried to brain me with an axe.”

“Funny, you don’t seem too upset about it.”

“Just doin’ like any proper mum - protectin’ her cub, yeah? She was a good lady. Her death…it was a real blow.”

“Angelus didn’t -?”

“Nah. That was after his time. Nothin’ supernatural about it at all, really. Not so far as we knew. The worst part was thinkin’ she’d be ok, after she was released from hospital. That was a rough patch, an’ no mistake. Buffy was datin’ this lunk… she does have a weakness for big and stupid… damned if he didn’t up an’ leave her right around then.”

“You're not together then?”

“Friends.”

“Just friends? Really…? From the way you talk about her, I would’ve assumed more.”

He looked older suddenly. He smiled, but there was an edge of weariness to it.

“There’s the cozy little fire in your fireplace. There’s the wildfire ragin’ out of control.” He glanced down at his right hand, where it curled loosely on his thigh. “Then there’s the Sacred Fire that burns but doesn’t consume. We’re back to whatcha might call the ‘cozy fire’ stage of our relationship. I’ve made my peace with it, mostly.”

“That’s good, I guess, but… it just doesn’t seem right somehow.”

“Well, there is one thing. The rules of magic are changin’, back home, and if I can figure a way to turn it to my advantage, we might be in business.”

“How so?”

“Buffy wants normal. Dunno if we could ever be a normal couple in the strictest sense, her bein’ Slayer an’ all, but somethin’ that looks like normal on a cloudy day… that we could maybe do.”

“Normal has its appeal, I totally get that, but if I’d opted for normal I wouldn’t have Killian, or any of the people I love.”

“Slayer’s got a bit of a martyr complex. Go figure.”

“Well, whatever happens, I hope it works out for you. Truth be told, this thing with Killian... it’s not just serious, it’s seriously scary. We’re sailing into uncharted waters here, only…without any actual sailing. He traded away his ship – his home – to get back here from the Enchanted Forest, and that was long before we got to where we are now. He laughs it off, or jokes about other, more prosaic attractions like cell phones and Hot Fudge Sundaes, but we both know better.  
At least he has one committed, long-term relationship to his credit, but even that’s problematic, because it’s tied in with the loss of his hand. I thought I had something, not so long ago, but that other guy…well… he wasn’t what he seemed to be.”

”Traded away his ship, did he? I’d give that a solid eight out o’ ten, easy. Mind you, I’m prone to the occasional Grand Gesture m’self. Still, pirates aren’t known for playin’ it safe, pet. He senses that same spirit in you, I reckon, an’ it calls to him. Sometimes all you can do is roll the dice and take your chances.”

He fished around in his pocket again, and pulled out a plain, slightly battered metal flask. He uncapped it, raised it to his lips, then shook his head and held it out to her.

“Where are my manners? Care for a snort?”

She took it from him, and brought it to her nose. Whiskey. She took a healthy pull. Holding it, she realized it wasn’t as plain as she’d thought. Engraved on one side was a simple monogram in a solid, masculine font: WHP.

“WHP?”

“You’re lookin’ at him.”

“Yeah? What’s it stand for?”

“William Henry Pratt.”

“Pratt?”

He shrugged.

“Mostly, I prefer ‘Spike.’ Buffy calls me William from time to time. Usually when she’s makin’ a point.”

Emma handed it back to him. He tossed back a shot with the ease of long practice, recapped the flask and slipped it back into its place. Then he produced a well-worn pack of playing cards.

“You know Gin Rummy?”

“I used to. Haven’t played in years.”

“Maybe it’ll come back to you.”

They’d been playing for some time when Emma said, “Hold up. I was never this good a player at my best.”

“Beginner’s luck.”

“No. You…have you been cheating? Wait. You’re cheating to let me win?”

He gave her a cheeky grin, curling the tip of his tongue up over his front teeth. Emma blinked. The gesture did funny things to her insides.

“Caught that, did you? Well, ‘s’not like we’re playin’ for money.”

They played a few more hands, but Emma could see that he was getting fidgety. Finally, she collapsed the fan of cards she held and handed them back to him. He gathered up the rest, and slipped the deck back into his pocket.

“Wonder what’s takin’ 'em so bloody long? Uh… no offense, Highness. Never been granted a Royal Audience before. How’m I doin’?”

“You’re asking me? I dunno. Ok, I guess. You’re not the guy I’d planned on being with this evening, but it’s been… nice. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so at ease with a total stranger before.”

“I’m a surprisingly good listener.”

“How are you at research?”

“Oh, I try to foist it off on others whenever possible,” he said cheerfully. “Hand me a nice, heavy book, and there better be somethin’ nearby what needs a good thumpin’. Still, found the Gem of Amara, didn’t I? ‘Sides, research doesn't hafta mean pourin' over musty ol' tomes. Why d’ya ask?”

“Just something Killian said once.”

“You’ll have to tender my apologies when he gets back. Cockblockin’ a rival’s one thing. Doin’ it to some poor bloke who only wants to make time with his girl… Well, that’s just Bad Form, that is.”

“You’ve got to be the strangest vampire I’ve ever met.”

“I’m the only one you’ve ever met, an’ it’ll stay that way if you’re lucky. If not,” he gestured towards the dresser, where Killian had left his cutlass. “You know how to use that pig-sticker?”

Emma wasn’t sure, but she had the feeling Killian wouldn’t be too happy hearing his beloved ‘Stella’ referred to with such disrespect.

“I’ve been known to get a little stabby.”

“It’s not stabby I’m thinkin’ of, so much as slashy.”

He drew his thumb across his throat while making a “krrrrrk” sound.

“Here,” he said, reaching into his pocket once more. Emma was half expecting a rabbit next. “At least keep one of these close to hand.”

He handed her a small bundle. She undid the knot holding it closed. The handkerchief fell open to reveal a simple wooden cross.

“Seriously? That really works?”

“Yeah.”

“But….you had it in your pocket.”

“I’m The Exception, remember?”

He reached out with his off hand and touched the tip of his little finger to it. Nothing happened.

He frowned and took it from her. Still nothing happened. He even gave it a little shake, like it might be defective somehow. Nothing happened.

“Huh. Maybe it works different here?”

He made that startling transformation again.

“There now. That’s more like it.”

Emma could just see a thin wisp of smoke spiraling up from his hand. She gasped and grabbed the cross away from him.

“You’re crazy!”

“Nah. That’s nuthin’.”

He showed her his hand. The angry red marks started to fade even as she watched.

“Holy Water works. Fire, too. Wooden stake to the heart, o’ course. Never felt compelled to count seeds, though. Dunno where the Hell that came from.”

He got a funny look on his face suddenly and rose to his feet.

“Spike?”

He turned to her and extended his hand.

“Been a pleasure, Swan, but my ride’s here.”

She got to her feet and grasped his hand. Only it wasn’t his. It was Killian’s. His eyes went directly to her throat.

“I’m fine.”

“Buffy assured me you’d be safe in Spike’s company. I can’t tell you how glad I am to see her trust in him was not misplaced.”

“I liked him. He kinda reminded me of you. Says he’s sorry for interrupting, by the way.”

“Ah, yes. You’ll have to tell me about it…later. Now, where were we?”

“Right about…”

Releasing his hand, she closed the small distance between them and wrapped her arms about his neck. Then she pressed her lips to his. He put his hand to the small of her back and pulled her in tighter. She responded by deepening the kiss. In the back of her mind, she felt a little pang of sorrow for her curious visitor, and his friend too. She only hoped that someday they could find such happiness.


End file.
